A Worried City Father Seeks Wholesomeness

As you’re wincing your way through “Suburgatory,” an unpalatable sitcom that has its premiere on ABC on Wednesday night, ponder the question that no studio executives apparently did: Who is the audience for this show?

The series begins with a tenuous premise, uses it to leap to an inaccurate dichotomy and supports that with tired, unfunny stereotypes. Jeremy Sisto, apparently a little too eager for work after “Law & Order” ended, plays George Altman, a single father who, we’re told in the setup, moves himself and his 16-year-old daughter to the suburbs from Manhattan after finding condoms in her dresser drawer.

What makes him think the suburbs are free of condom-using teenagers, which they most certainly aren’t, remains unclear. But apparently he does, and so does his irritating daughter, Tessa (Jane Levy).

“Goodbye, Washington Square Park,” she says, describing the relocation. “Goodbye, sexually active classmates.” Such is what passes for humor on this show: quips that leave a sour taste.

And what do this chemistry-free father and daughter find in the suburbs? Caricatures lifted from “The Real Housewives of New Jersey.” Adults and teenagers are uniformly vacuous and catty. Their main interest seems to be speculating about whether Tessa is a lesbian, a joke (if you can call it that in an age when teenagers kill themselves over Facebook rumors) that is run into the ground in the pilot. Oh, and the adult women all want to bed George.

The show, created by Emily Kapnek, who has worked on “Hung” and “Parks and Recreation,” has a supporting cast full of people who have been in much better comedies than this, like Cheryl Hines of “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” Ana Gasteyer of “Saturday Night Live” and Alan Tudyk.

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Excerpt: 'Suburgatory'

The ABC sitcom is about a father and daughter who move to an oddball suburb.

Despite those ingredients, the premise never really has a chance, at least in the pilot, because although the script seems to have a specific (though erroneous) idea of what constitutes a suburban teenager, it doesn’t bother to delineate Tessa’s contrasting persona. Is she a bohemian sort of city teenager? An overprivileged one? A hangin’-out-in-the-’hood type?

Perhaps this isn’t made clear because the people behind this show don’t know any more about urban teenagers than they do about suburban ones. If they did, they’d realize that at least in the New York area, the differences among young people have far more to do with their economic status than with their residence. Where do suburban teenagers in these parts spend half their time? In New York, of course.

The real problem with this series, though, is that it’s hard to figure out who is supposed to be watching it. The setup — single parent, cheeky kid — feels Disneyish, but what comes out of these characters’ mouths isn’t anything Disney-endorsing parents would want their tweeners hearing. In addition to the condom discussion, the pilot features Tessa advising one of her new acquaintances that a pair of short-shorts will show her vagina.

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Yet it’s hard to imagine older teenagers watching “Suburgatory” either, because if there’s one thing kids in that age group are good at, it’s spotting phoniness. They should be quick to peg this as a series made by people who don’t know much about how teenagers really live.

Perhaps, then, the show is for parents with a teenager like Tessa, who will be watching, hoping to glean child-rearing insights? Nah; if you have a kid that annoying in your house, why would you want one on your television too?